


Drive

by WolfVenom



Series: R6S Drabbles [16]
Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: Bittersweet, Character Death, Drabble, Ficlet, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, M/M, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-21 01:13:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14905676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfVenom/pseuds/WolfVenom
Summary: Small gift for Apollo on Tumblr (@starshooter-apollo), who gorges on this pairing and must be fed well.





	Drive

The average heart rate is sixty to one hundred beats per minute. At least, the most fascinating heart to him was. It beat steady and calm during the most dangerous of times, yet never failed to flail erratically when faced with embarrassment or affection. The best feeling he ever experienced was during the evenings, one ear pressed to a warm chest and just  _ listening  _ to the gentle thumps below, calculating the exact time sleep arrived and right when it left.

 

On the field, it never wavered. Exhausted, scared, stressed; it still pulsed the same, strong and confident. He liked to think that  _ that _ heart was the only one he could tell apart from just beats alone. And in a way, he could.

 

During work, it ranged from seventy-five beats to ninety-nine, a perfectly healthy difference if he could say so. At home, it was quieter, yet no less prominent. 

 

At foreign warzones, it was one-hundred to one-hundred and five, something he never failed to tease about, even though everyone else was likely just as scared from the whole thing. Jokes never failed to brighten the moods. 

 

When trying to stop the bleeding from a teammates wounded shoulder it was one-hundred and thirty beats, that fear bleeding from heart to home and everyone inside it. Of course, the soldier would be okay, it was a minor gunshot at best, but worry was one thing that training could never suppress.

 

He sat in the grass, letting the spittle of rain slowly drench his clothes. The sun hadn’t shone in days, the rain never stopped, and smiles never sprung on a surprised face. Pulse listened to the rhythmic clicking of his HB-5 matching his own heart by a mere second beat faster, eyes glued to the red screen as the sensor wiped to and fro. The batteries were probably dying by now, an hour passed at the least since he settled down in this spot.

 

The marble in front of him glared mockingly, displaying engraving of days he wished he didn’t remember and a name belonging to a heart of gold he so adored. No matter how many times he scanned the dirt before him, a pulse was never detected. A heart never beat. 

 

_ During a counter-terrorist operation in the Chalet of France, Jordan Trace’s heartbeat fell to zero beats per minute. _

  
  


The longer he sat, the more hope faded away that the cardiac sensor would pick it back up again. 


End file.
